Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,50

have access. Preliminary surveillance suggests two groundskeepers, a cook, a driver, and at least three housekeepers on a rotating weekly schedule.”

“How many residents?” she asked.

“One man, with only occasional guests, some of which may be there now.”

“The alarm system was upgraded about six months ago,” Travis said, pointing out a photo of a security company van parked in the driveway, a pair of contractors standing next to it. Charley wondered if the contractors were on Rudy’s payroll.

With so much intel, it was clear Travis and Rudy had already done a ton of digging.

She brought the drink to her lips, covering her frustration with a long pull. It was just like Rudy not to involve her until the last minute. That’s all she’d ever be to him—a pawn. If anything went south, she’d be the first to go down and the last to talk, because she had the most to lose.

Even more than the money, the penthouse, the credit card bill he paid without fail, Sasha’s life would always be Rudy’s true bargaining chip, and everyone in that room knew it.

“In addition to the security details,” Rudy went on, “we need more intel about the cache itself. We’ve traced a lot of artwork to this location, but we can’t be sure exactly what’s there. When we go in—not if, but when—we need to be prepared for anything. We won’t get another shot.”

Charley spread the photos out on the table, giving everything a closer look. The property featured a 20,000-square-foot Elizabethan manor home on fifty acres of lush gardens, with stunning views of the Hudson River and the Catskill Mountains beyond. There was also a massive garage, a guesthouse, and several smaller outbuildings, everything pristine and perfect.

It was breathtaking.

Also, a ridiculous amount of property for one man.

It was situated far away from the main roads. If Charley needed to make a quick escape, it wouldn’t be a simple matter of dashing out into the street and hailing a cab.

Worse, fundraisers required a lot more social interaction than auctions. With no main event to keep people occupied, everyone would want to talk and network and generally pry into one another’s business—all things that could get her noticed if she didn’t keep her story straight. She’d have to really be on her game, and the “attorney” cover felt too complicated, too easy to screw up.

It was a lot to consider.

But like all of Rudy’s “requests,” refusing wasn’t really an option.

“I want a driver,” she said finally. “He has to stay within a mile of the home at all times.”

“Absolutely,” Rudy said.

“I’m not sitting in weekend traffic on I-87, either. Get me a room in town for Thursday night.”

“Consider it done.”

“I’ll need a new dress.”

“Of course.”

“Shoes and accessories too.”

“You’ve got the credit card—go crazy.” Rudy sipped his drink, eyes sparkling over the rim of his glass. “Any other demands, kiddo?”

“Just one.” Charley leaned back on the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. “After this job, I want a vacation. Three weeks in Spain, all expenses paid. And that’s for me and my sister. Nonnegotiable.”

Rudy narrowed his eyes, but he was already nodding. “Do the job right, and you’ll be rewarded.”

He swept the surveillance photos and floor plans back into his folio, leaving Charley with the envelope containing her fundraiser ticket, map, and details about her identity. She stuffed it into her purse, glancing once more at Travis.

“I’m so glad you’re getting in bed with us on this,” he said, flashing another creepy grin.

Other than the forged ticket and surveillance details he’d provided, she couldn’t figure out why he was still here.

“What’s your involvement, exactly?” she asked.

The look in his eyes was so gleefully menacing, she half expected him to unhinge his jaw and swallow her whole.

“I’m your driver, baby.” He reached over and squeezed her knee, a promise and a threat. “Just you and me, like old times.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The cool, white bedding was the best invitation Charley had gotten all night.

After following her into the elevator at Rudy’s, Travis had spent the entire ride down groping and pawing, pressing her against the wall like a dog in heat. He’d stopped short of climbing into the cab with her, but that was only because she’d slammed the door in his face.

A long, hot shower helped calm her nerves, and now Charley sank into her luxurious down pillows, ready to put that part of the evening squarely in the rearview.

But the oblivion of sleep wouldn’t take her. Her mind was too busy racing through the